


Men of Nouns and Men of Verbs

by Scandiaca



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Relationship, Romance?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-05
Updated: 2014-07-05
Packaged: 2018-02-07 15:29:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1904214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scandiaca/pseuds/Scandiaca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft knew many nouns to describe himself. He had invented some of them. Downright expunged others. There are few things as illusionary and falsely-descriptive as nouns. <br/>However, recent developments had started to challenge the usefulness of his descriptors. Namely, the closer relationship with Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Men of Nouns and Men of Verbs

The Iceman.

A Minor Government Official.  
Mr. Holmes.  
The Smart One.  
Arch-Enemy.  
The most dangerous man you will ever meet.  
  
Mycroft knew many nouns to describe himself. He had invented some of them. Downright expunged others. There are few things as illusionary and falsely-descriptive as nouns. And for the longest time, the elder Holmes hadn't found his particular set of nouns to be disadvantageous. They kept his enemies at bay, goldfish interactions to a minimum, and his brother occupied in his never-ending quest to antagonise. As long as it kept Sherlock occupied, Mycroft vowed to be a most challenging arch-enemy. A selflessly devoted brother.

However, recent developments had started to challenge the usefulness of his descriptors. Namely, the closer relationship with Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade. Usually, Mycroft was not one to blatantly ignore problems. In his field of work, one ignored problem could become a matter of life and death. Or even worse, involve his younger brother. However, Mycroft found himself casually… arranging more frequent meetings between himself and the silver haired man. Not that DI Lestrade would notice. Mycroft simply visited his brother at similar times as the other. Sherlock had noticed. And in a clearly misguided and puzzling act of brotherly … good will, he had timed his own and Dr. Watsons absence accordingly. In consequence, Mycroft found himself in Baker Street, sipping on Mrs. Hudson’s tea and making small talk with one Gregory Lestrade.

“Been running into you a lot lately…” the inspector mused, clearly attempting to start a polite conversation. Mycroft found the concept at least as dull as Sherlock. However, he had manners. Something Sherlock had deleted from his mind-palace after an unfortunate playground accident. The scar on his brother head was well hidden under thick black curls. Which Mycroft was in no shape or form envious of.

“Yes, it seems my dear brother has become quite elusive,” Mycroft answered with an arched eyebrow that once upon a time would have been a long suffering sigh.

“Yeah, I don’t even know what he is doing all this time. John and him seem to be running about… it’s not for one of my cases, that’s for sure,” the DI offered, shaking his head with a well-meaning grin. “Mind you, I rather have them running around together, then… you know, the alternative,” he trailed off, and Mycroft couldn’t help but agree. An alternative to Dr. John Watson was seemingly impossible to employ, even for somebody as resourceful as himself.

“I would assume they are seeing a man about two impossible clockworks. Afterwards, my dear brother will work on one of your cases. Not the one you are currently carrying, the one from two days ago. Not a break-in, I am afraid,” he explained, because the DI deserved some warning. Very few people in Sherlock’s life were offered that courtesy. And Mycroft Holmes could be generous. On occasion.

The detective let out a startled laugh and shook his head. He grinned widely, giving Mycroft a humourous salute with his tea cup. “To the two bloody geniuses in my life,” he stated, and took another sip.  
Mycroft felt oddly touched by the sentiment. His younger brother was most definitely part of the DI’s life. But Mycroft himself felt more like a subtle influence than a definite presence.

“You will find, Detective Inspector, that I am the smart one,” Mycroft answered, and had the absurd urge to bite his tongue immediately. DI Lestrade wrecked havoc on his carefully crafted and adjusted behavior patterns.Which was why the man should be avoided, not actively sought out.

Again, Mycroft’s words startled a laugh out of the detective. The elder Holmes found the sound highly pleasing. Which was dangerous. Gregory Lestrade made him aspire to show some rather adventurous expressions.

“I must apologise again for my brother and his… negligence. He can be very disrespectful even towards people he keeps in high regard,” Mycroft offered, one of countless apologies on countless occasions.  
The other man simply waved the words aside and shook his head. “He’s a wanker, don’t get me wrong. But a good one. Better than lots of blokes who know their please and thanks.”

Mycroft found himself illogically bristling. Manners were something he appreciated. And cultivated. And he thought himself quite agreeable for that reason. And so should the detective inspector.

“I see,” he answered. Because Mycroft Holmes could convey silent disappointment, judgement, and a call to action within two unassuming words. But DI Lestrade wasn’t easily intimidated. And for that, Mycroft was glad. However, he had not anticipated the prompt reaction.

“God, I haven’t seen somebody pout with so much dignity. And in a bloody three-piece suit.” He winked. Mycroft didn’t quite know what to do with that. People usually didn’t wink at him. Most certainly not in a seemingly unguarded conversation.

“I beg you pardon?” But the detective inspector didn’t stop there. He chuckled. At Mycroft. The elder Holmes knew his facial expression slipped into one of the annoyed glances only extended contact to Sherlock and/or his parents was prone to produce.

“Come off it, Mr. Holmes. Present parties were of course excluded from that statement. You coordinate a pocket square, tie, shirt and suit to perfection. Wish I had that eye.” Mycroft admitted, he found himself quite surprised by Gregory’s assessment.

“The shoes and socks match as well,” Mycroft answered in his bewilderment. Immediately, he wished to retract that statement. But the detective just laughed. Again. Rich and dark and unaffected by behavioral training.

“Of course they do.” He was teased. Without hidden motivations. Or a negative agenda. It made Mycroft’s thoughts turn foolish and adventurous.

“I want to make apologies for my brother. He sees you as a person of… authority in some ways. And his first instinct is to… deny that aspect in a most childish manner,” Mycroft offered, because making excuses for Sherlock Holmes was part of his responsibility. And Gregory Lestrade deserved an apology. However, he was greeted with a dismissal wave.

“What, the name thing? That’s more funny than anything. Comes up with weirder names every day. The guys at the station have a betting pool…” Mycroft crooked his head as the other man trailed off. They sized each other across the room, and Gregory seemed to come to a puzzling conclusion.

“Why should it bother me, Mr. Holmes? It’s just a name. You used to call me ‘Detective Inspector’ because I wasn’t important enough for a last name,” he continued, giving Mycroft another grin. Mycroft Holmes had too much self-control to look sheepish. But he did nod in acknowledgement.

“It’s just a role. A noun. I kinda gave up on nouns…” Mycroft blinked at this, and urged the DI to elaborate with a single perfectly arched eyebrow.

“You know? Detective Inspector. Husband. That kind of nouns. They are pretty rigid roles. I do better with verbs. I work in the police force. I try to protect people. I lock the bad guys up. Or…” A grin, again. “I send them your way. I married my wife. And then we divorced. I cook, and watch footie whenever Arsenal plays. Really, I just prefer verbs.” Gregory ended his explanation with a noncommittal shrug. As if he hadn’t just revealed a minimalistic and rather organic solution to Mycroft's personal dilemma. Verbs were infinitely more direct than nouns. While actions were still open to interpretation, their process and characteristic could hardly be denied. Mycroft Holmes was a man of elusive nouns. But he could appreciate words of action. With a thoughtful nod, Mycroft Holmes stood up.

“Gregory Lestrade. I would very much like to take you to dinner.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is a short piece I wrote after I found a quote allegedly by Oscar Wilde. It said, nouns trap people in a destiny. One should rather use verbs, because they can change and your future is still yours to make.   
> I have to thank my dear friend Margaret, because she keeps me sane and happy :)


End file.
